


Cruel to be Kind

by Salted_Caramel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Fluff, Fucking Machines, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salted_Caramel/pseuds/Salted_Caramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by "Requiem of a Dream." Heavily addicted to heroin and on his last leg, Merlin agrees to take part in a sex show, to be used by the rich in an attempt to score drugs or money. There, he meets Arthur Pendragon, a very wealthy man with a very shady profession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel to be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I watched “Requiem of a Dream” the other day and it spurned my craving for Merlin whump and not-so-white-knight Arthur. I admit I was a bit nervous about posting this. I wondered if I should've marked it non-con but I used the Kink Meme rating guidelines and the fic falls into dub-con so...
> 
>  **The following fic contains a lot of drug references, being forced to quit heroin, dubious consent issues due to the Merlin being inhibited by drugs, and a lot of dark themes.** I’m pretty sure I’ve warned for everything, but tell me if I’ve missed something. Please don’t read this if any of the tags and warnings seem worrying to you. Your well being comes first :)
> 
> Thank you to Tee who beta'd for me! You're the best friend a gal could have!

Merlin has to tell himself over and over again that he’s agreed to do this. That he’ll go home, pockets filled with wads of cash and tiny packets of snowy heroin. The promise of heroin is really what seals the deal. It makes the fucking machine in front of him not seem so intimidating. Or rather, makes it seem worth it. Regardless of anything that will happen tonight, all of it will be worth it.

“Relax.” Mordred’s dressed to the nines, looking as if he’s five minutes away from boarding a limo that will take him to the golden globes. “It’s not so bad.” He pats Merlin’s naked back, offering comfort.

Merlin flinches away, cringing when the lube– so callously injected into him before, oozes out– slickening his inner thighs. _Just one night,_ he tells himself. He’ll be okay.

“Mordred,” he says. They’ve known each other for a long time, not close enough to be friends, but Merlin’s sucked his cock one too many times to call them strangers. “You better keep to your word.”

“Of course.” Mordred makes a face, as if he’s _hurt_ that Merlin would allude to otherwise. “If anything, you’re helping me. I was in a bit of a bind, you know? We were one man short. Such a shame as well.  He was really good at this.” He doesn’t elaborate on anything else but the words _‘overdose’_ run rampant through Merlin’s mind.

“This is only for one night,” Merlin says thickly. This time he doesn’t pull away when Mordred touches him. Fingers grip at his arm, tugging him towards the fucking machine.

“It is.” It’s worrying, how devious Mordred sounds.

Merlin’s glad that he’s high, that his mind is slightly buzzed, and the world currently doesn’t matter so much. The leather of the fucking machine is cold against his back, goosebumps creeping onto his skin. He allows himself to be strapped down, leather pulled taut over his wrists, arms, knees and ankles. He feels like some sort of sexed up marionette doll.

He jerks, surprised at the warm fingers that tease at his hole, entering him without any warning. It causes more lube to seep from him, warmed from his own body heat. He allows himself the small luxury of making an alarmed whine when he feels the tip of the dildo. It feels larger than it looks, and fear runs cold down his spine for the very first time tonight. It slides into him with a mechanical slowness that feels violating. Merlin blinks away the tears that prickle at the corner of his eyes, lets out a shuddering breath when the machine starts up. There’s the whirring, jarring noise from the motor and then Merlin’s breath is taken away, leaving him gasping when the dildo begins to slowly fuck him.

As if to add to his torment, Mordred touches his cock, gets him erect and dripping with precome. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding apologetic at all. “I need to have you looking pretty for the show.” He trails his fingers along Merlin’s stomach, along his collarbone, up the curve of his neck to run his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “Later,” he croons, voice filled with empty promises. “We’ll have some speedballs later. I’ll even suck you off.” He doesn’t even wait for Merlin to reply before he walks off.

The lights dim down and then music with carnal, heavy beats start to flood the room.

\-----

Sometimes, like this very moment, Merlin hates Will. Will who had introduced him to drugs, who had so selfishly died of a drug overdose, leaving Merlin bereft of a supplier and a best friend. He hates Will so very much.

Merlin doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but his arse is numb and it’s starting to hurt at the places where he’s been strapped down. He’s sure he’s gone partially deaf by the sheer volume of the music, and the jeering of all the patrons.

He’s come so many times he’s exhausted. He wants nothing more than to drift off and he would, if not for the damn dildo that keeps on tapping at his oversensitized prostate.  

They must get off on this, he thinks, get off on being entertained. They’re all dressed up in brand names that Merlin’s never heard of before, but knows must be expensive. No one really bothers him, and that’s a small blessing in itself. Occasionally, he’s used as some sort of… human drug dispenser– sugar cubes of LSD off his stomach and lines of coke off his chest but that’s really the worst of it, being used like this. He’ll get over it, eventually.

He feels so terribly awful for the two women in the far corner, rabbiting against each other as they fuck a double-ended dildo. They’re getting taunted at, money thrown at them while rich people hurl abusive words and jeers, so aggressively loud that it sounds as if they were watching a cock-fight.

“What are you watching?” A woman coos. A gloved hand touches his jaw, gently forcing his mouth open. “This isn’t for you.” She says, clicking her tongue, holding a tiny white pill in his line of vision. Merlin sticks out his tongue, allowing her to place the pill at the very tip. She kisses it off him, swallowing the pill before delving her tongue deeper into his mouth, sucking at his tongue and tracing patterns against his teeth. A tendril of her perfectly curled hair tickles at the nap of his neck. “Good boy,” she praises, patting his head before sauntering off with taps of her teetering heels.

The next man isn’t so pleasant, and Merlin fights the urge to vomit at the sight of him, at the realisation that this man is going to _do stuff_ to him and Merlin has to be okay with it.

“Ain't you such a beauty?” his hands are covered in callouses and when he grins, his yellow, crooked teeth show. “Are you for sale?” he asks.

Merlin cannot say ‘no’ fast enough.

“That’s a shame.” The man pouts, though it looks awful with his peppered scruffy beard and balding head. He pours a neat line of white powder along Merlin’s pectoral before rolling up a hundred dollar note. He sniffs the line off Merlin, licking the residue for good measure.

Merlin shivers at the hot tongue that drags across his chest, letting out a yelp at the unexpected bite to his nipple. It hurts, more than he had expected, and Merlin hopes that there isn’t going to be a mark. He doesn’t want a reminder of this, no matter how temporary.

With a sleazy grin on his face, he tugs at Merlin’s flaccid cock, seemingly unimpressed when it doesn’t get a rise out of Merlin. He disappears out of Merlin’s line of sight, and Merlin is grateful, only for a moment, before the pace of the fucking machine picks up. “I’ll be back,” the man promises.

Merlin closes his eyes, grits his teeth as he tries to get used to the new pace of the machine. It’s harder this time, the force of it is enough to have him being pushed up and down on the leather bed. The merciless pace of the machine slows down to a more bearable rate. His eyes snap open when someone else touches him. Merlin lets out a shuddering breath of relief because it’s _not_ the same man from before.

The man is very easy on the eyes, with his blonde hair and blue eyes that’s offset by the arrogant sweep of his strong jawline. “Kanen can be such a shady character.”

It’s hilariously ironic, such a comment. Because who would partake in such an event and not be of a shady disposition? “Pot calls kettle black, much?” Merlin laughs, unable to help himself. It’s the first time he’s actually laughed since this whole mess began. The amusement he feels shrivels up and dies, replaced with dread when the man frowns.

The man wrinkles his nose, sneering in distaste. "Don't be stupid. I'm leagues above him."

Merlin feels panic tickle at his insides. He prays he hasn't offended the man, at least not enough to make a complaint to Mordred. Merlin can part with the money if it gets to that, but he truly, desperately needs the drugs. He doesn't know where else to get it now that Will is out of the picture. “I can see that.” Merlin swallows thickly, unsure if it’s due to his nervousness or because of the damn dildo fucking his arse raw.

“I’m Arthur.” The man says it without a hint of anger and just like that, the panic Merlin feels dissipates.

Arthur takes a glass of champagne from one of the wandering waiters, bringing the glass to his lips and drinks from it deeply. He dips a napkin into whatever’s left, waiting a moment for it to soak up with wine before he uses it to dab away at Merlin’s chest.

 _‘He’s cleaning me’,_ Merlin realises, or rather, cleaning away the places that Kanen had touched.

“How much did Mordred pay you to do this?” Arthur asks, toying with Merlin’s sore nipple, teasing and flicking at the stiffened nub as if he had _the right_ to do so.

“Not enough,” Merlin chokes out.

Arthur chuckles, dark and rich, pinching Merlin’s nipple to the point of pain, wanting a proper answer.

“Three grand.” Merlin can already tell by the way Arthur talks, and how he carries himself–hell, by the way he _laughs_ – that this isn’t a man to be trifled with. Kanen seems like a harmless, grubby little earthworm compared to someone like Arthur.

Arthur stares at him for a long moment before he snorts. “What do you take?” he asks, fingers casually slipping under leather straps, looking for needle marks that Merlin knows isn’t there. Arthur doesn’t stop there however, because he starts looking elsewhere.

“ _That’s_ ,” Merlin grits out, trying to kick when Arthur places a hand along his calves, “None of your business.”

Arthur just hums, smiling to himself when he parts Merlin’s toes and finds the tiny needle marks. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“H-heroin.” Strangely, it feels far too personal, admitting such a thing to a man he doesn’t even know. Merlin is very aware that he’s stark naked, and currently being violated by a sex machine. There’s nothing conventional about this, and he’s so very glad that he’s still too buzzed to feel too humiliated.

“Spend the night with me.” It’s a question, but it sure as hell doesn’t sound like one. It’s a demand more like, made by a man who has clearly never been denied anything in his life. “I’ll triple whatever he’s giving you.”

Triple. The thought alone makes Merlin salivate. He’ll be set for a month if he uses it wisely. A month without having to worry, without fretting over where he’s going to get his next hit sounds blissful. He almost says yes, just like that, but he’s not stupid. He may be a junkie but he’s fortunate enough to retain a sound mind, at least for now. Arthur shrugs. “I know what I like,” he says. “So, what’s your answer?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Nothing I can’t find out later.”

The fact that Arthur turns on the fucking machine to full capacity further consolidates that he’s an awful, terrible human being. “Yes!” Merlin practically howls, struggling to free himself. “Yes!” he cries out again. This time, the tears come because _it’s just too much_. The machine’s battering at his prostate, and even his wrung out cock twitches into a semi-stiffness. He’s going to bruise, _fuck_ , he’s going to shatter and he’s not sure if he knows how to put himself back together. “ _Arthur!”_ he screams out, begging.

The machine stops, coming to a stuttering halt. Arthur pulls it out and slowly begins to undo the leather straps. They’ve caught the attention of the other patrons who watch them with curiosity while giving Arthur a very wide berth.

The moment Merlin’s able to, he curls up into a ball, wanting to disappear.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mordred says, making his way through the crowd. His lips thin out, expression sour at the sight of Arthur. “Arthur,” he greets, sounding uncharacteristically polite.

 _Who on earth is this man?_ Merlin thinks to himself, accepting the suit jacket that Arthur throws over him. He tries to step onto the floor, but his legs tremble, bucking underneath him. It’s only Arthur’s swift reflexes and firm grip that keeps him upright.

“We’ll be taking our leave.”

“I hope you enjoyed tonight’s event.” Mordred nods, looking very displeased. Merlin knows that after this, he won’t see a dime let alone be supplied with any drugs.

“More than I expected,” Arthur says primly, with the airs of a lord or prince.

\-----

The hotel room is more lavish than anything Merlin’s ever been in. The carpet is plush beneath his toes, and even the chocolates on the pillow are the expensive sort. He’s scared to move, to dirty the place with his not so pristine presence.  

“My cock isn’t going to be much use to you tonight,” Merlin says, shaky as he stands in the middle of the hotel room, unsure of what to do. He pulls Arthur’s jacket tighter around himself as he discreetly tries to look around the room, searching for places that can be used to hide drugs.

Arthur on the other hand, sneers at the wall, as if the hotel suite isn’t good enough for someone the likes of him. “Your cock isn’t what I want,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, knees parted. He reaches into his pockets, pulls out a small packet of very familiar white powder, flicking at it slightly. “Is this what you were looking for?” he asks with a smirk.

Merlin’s mouth goes dry. It’s sex that Arthur wants, right? He can do that. His heart stops in his chest, and what’s left of his soul _dies_ when Arthur tips the packet over, letting the fine powder fall upon his polished shoes like icing sugar.  

He would cry, if he had any tears left within him. But clearly his distress is obvious, because Arthur laughs. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Breathe.”

It dawns on Merlin then. “You get off on this, don’t you?” he accuses. “You’re one of those…” his words end in a hushed whisper, “sadists. Aren’t you?”

“As I said before, _Mer_ lin. I know what I like.” Arthur’s smiling, looking far too happy with himself as he gestures towards his feet. “Waste not, want not.”

Merlin wishes that he held out longer, that he had the self-control to walk away, but he doesn’t. Tentatively, he takes a step forward, letting the jacket fall from his shoulders and onto the floor.

“Crawl,” Arthur orders softly, knowing that he doesn’t need any force behind his words to make Merlin do his bidding.

Humiliation flows through his veins; much like his adored drug of choice, but there’s something else as well. A flicker of annoyance that he usually doesn’t feel. “Do you want me to bark as well?” he practically snaps. He sits at Arthur’s feet, eyes constantly darting towards the drug dusting Arthur’s expensive Italian leather shoes.

“I’ll tell you if I want something.” Arthur reaches out, hands caressing Merlin’s hair, still moist with sweat from before. “Now lick my shoes, and if you’re good, I’ll let you have a taste of my cock.”

It’s like getting whiplash, between Arthur’s gentle touches and his vicious words. It’s shameless, how happy Merlin is to lick at Arthur’s shoes, to get at the drugs his body is so badly craving. The heroin is bitter on his tongue, soothed only by the supple softness of the leather. He laps at every bit he can find, wedging his tongue between the sewn seams and suckling on the laces. He can’t get high on this, not this way, not orally. He looks up at Arthur pleadingly, desperately needing more.

“Later,” Arthur promises, reading him like a book. His pupils are wide, high on some sort of power trip. “I’ve changed my mind,” he says, thumbing at Merlin’s lip, pushing past to press against his teeth. “As much as I love your mouth...” With a viper’s swiftness, he curls his fingers around the nape of Merlin’s neck, tugging painfully at his hair. “I think I’ll save it for another day.”  

Then Merlin’s thrown onto the bed, landing on his front with enough force to have him bounce a bit, messing up the neatly arrange pillows. He doesn’t even get a chance to take in a breath before fingers delve into his hole, still slick and loose from before. “You,” Merlin laughs breathlessly, “Sure don’t waste your time.”

Arthur hasn’t even bothered to take his clothes off, but Merlin guesses he gets off on that too, being so well dressed while fucking a naked, desperate junkie.  

Arthur only hums, a deep rumble low in his throat as he adds another finger. With his other hand he slaps at Merlin’s bum before parting the cheeks to better see his scissoring fingers.

Those calloused fingers slip away, but is soon followed by Arthur’s presence looming over him, caging Merlin in as he rummages through the beside table. Even the lube here is fancy, coming in tiny, tasteful bottles. Arthur tosses the lube back into the drawer before pulling out some condoms.

There’s the familiar sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone, followed by the condom foil being torn open.

“A-Arthur,” Merlin keens, a low whine that gets muffled by the pillow as Arthur enters him, hands at his hips, nails digging into his flesh as he forces Merlin’s arse higher.

Merlin chokes, eyes widening as Arthur’s thrusts go deeper. He buries his face into the pillows, screaming and moaning at the pleasure he didn’t expect to feel. Even his soft cock stiffens up, hot with blood as it rubs against the high thread count sheets.

Arthur stops, his tongue clicking at the roof of his mouth in disapproval. “ _No_. Merlin,” Arthur says, grasping at Merlin’s chin, tugging his face to the side before resuming. There’s nothing to muffle him anymore and Merlin hopes that the walls of the hotel room are adequately thick, because Arthur brings out the banshee in him. He can tell when Arthur’s close, feels the slight tremor of Arthur’s thighs, notices how his pace becomes more erratic.

Arthur groans when he comes, a deep, resonating sound in Merlin’s ear, followed by the soft feeling of warmth from Arthur’s orgasm.

It’s strange, when Arthur pulls out. It feels… empty, somehow. Tiredly, Merlin watches as Arthur knots up the condom before letting it drop onto the carpet. He doesn’t move when Arthur flips him onto his back, hand reaching for his cock.

“No,” Merlin mumbles, trying to swat Arthur’s hand away to no avail.” I don’t need-” he insists, because he’s been milked dry as it is, and while some part of him doesn’t mind, the rest of him is done for the night.

Arthur chuckles, brushing back his sweat slicked hair as he straddles Merlin’s legs. He continues touching Merlin’s cock switching between long, slow pulls and teasing the head that has Merlin shuddering in pleasure. He comes; managing a few, scant drops of come that Arthur wipes at with his thumb.

“I could sleep forever after this.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Can’t.” Merlin may be exhausted to the very marrow of his bones, but he needs his hit if he wants to sleep peacefully. It takes longer than he likes, because his limbs don’t listen to him, but eventually he gets there, kneeling by the bedside table as he pours a crooked line of heroin onto the varnished surface. A hundred dollar bill is nudged into his line of vision and he accepts it, rolling the note up.

“Go to bed,” Arthur orders before making his way to the bathroom.

Merlin falls asleep to the sound of the shower running. When he wakes up, there’s an envelope, stuffed to the brim with money, along with nice, plump packets of heroin. It’s the promised tripled amount to Mordred’s original offer. His cell phone gains a new contact number, and Merlin finds out that Arthur’s last name is Pendragon.

\-----

Merlin always takes a little bit too much after he has a phone-call with his mother. It’s not that she’s mad, or even disappointed– it would be easier if she were– it’s that she always sounds so sad, as if she let him down somehow. His actions cause her pain and the knowledge of that stings in a way that only drugs can numb.   

The door to his crummy apartment creaks open and Merlin smiles, already knowing who it is.

“You didn’t show up.” He looks so posh, with his tailored suit. Even the overstuffed duffle bag in his hand looks expensive. It probably costs more than everything Merlin owns in this depressing little apartment.  

“Arthur,” Merlin says happily at the sight of his not-boyfriend.  Six months, six months of whatever they have going between them and Merlin’s still not sure of what Arthur is to him. Merlin cares for him a bit too much for Arthur to just be his drug supplying sugar daddy. At the same time, he’s sure that he means bit too much to Arthur to just be his on-call whore.

Arthur hurls the bag and Merlin lets out an ‘oof’ as the bag hits him. “Can I open it? he asks.

“I don’t see why not.” Unable to find a coat rack, Arthur neatly folds his suit jacket and rests it over one of the chairs. He makes himself at home, invading Merlin’s kitchen and putting the kettle to boil. Arthur may be a criminal, but he’s also British and tea, to him, is a must.

Merlin may be a junkie and a commoner compared to Arthur, but even he knows the importance of tea. He even has an expensive brand stocked just for Arthur.

The duffel bag contains money, a lot of it; all neatly bundled up. There’s a handgun in there as well, swallowed by the sea of wealth, but what catches Merlin’s interests are the passports. “What did you want me to do with this?” There’s a passport for Arthur, only the name isn’t “Arthur Pendragon” but instead, “Reginald Spectre.” Merlin opens the other one. He doesn’t even bother asking how Arthur managed to procure a picture of him. “Do I look like a Jesse Reid to you?”

“Hardly. Just keep it hidden somewhere, will you? It’s there just in case.”

It’s almost sweet, that Arthur takes him into consideration when it comes to things like “just in case.” Merlin zips the bag closed, he’ll hide it later when he’s not so sleepy. He pushes the bag off, sprawling over the ratty sofa with a languid laziness. He closes his eyes, humming happily. Maybe he’ll take a nap, just a short one, before they have sex.

The kettle boils, screaming shrilly before Arthur takes it off the stove to pour into mugs, stained from tea and coffee. He mixes his tea using a butter knife, because all of Merlin’s spoons have blackened bottoms.  

When Merlin opens his eyes, Arthur’s face is in his line of vision. Arthur’s eyes dart back and forth slowly, as if taking in all of Merlin’s face, from his constricted pupils to his chapped lips. “You took too much this time.”

“Don’t look like that,” He laughs, bringing his hand up to trail his fingers along Arthur’s cheek and jawline. “It’s not as if I’m dead.”

“Yet,” Arthur replies, tone clipped and disapproving, as if he found out someone just keyed his car, damaging what is _his_ ,. “Tell me, _Mer_ lin. What do you suppose I do the next time you miss our appointment, and I come here, only to find you stone cold?”  

Merlin shrugs. Why do they have to talk about this? Can’t they just fuck like they usually do? “Well then,” he leans in closer, placing a small kiss at the corner of Arthur’s mouth. “You’re just going to have to go back to one of Mordred’s parties. Junkies desperate enough to do anything. We’re a dime a dozen, aren’t we?”

Arthur kisses him, tongue tracing every crevice of Merlin’s mouth, all consuming. It feels like being ravished, hot and slick. They barely part for air, and it’s only when Merlin lets out a low whine, squirming in his pyjamas that Arthur pulls away, chuckling in that sinister way of his.

Merlin already feels hot, itching under his skin in a way that only Arthur can soothe. It’s a short walk into Merlin’s bedroom. The bed is unmade and Merlin has to push piles of clothing off the bed before it’s even remotely sex friendly. It doesn’t take long for them to strip, though Arthur does it with a lot more refinement than Merlin.

A lot of the times when they have sex, Arthur is an absolute maniac, sadistic in a way that leads to Merlin being bruised and aching for days, but sometimes, once in a blue moon he’s… gentle, almost sweet.

Merlin doesn’t want gentle today. He wants the pain, is desperate for it. The sharp exhilarating sensation that anchors him, stops him from thinking about anything not happening at this very moment. “M-more,” he whispers, mouth parted in soft gasps as Arthur oh so slowly thrusts into him.

Arthur, because he is a prat that never does anything anyone tells him to, doesn’t give Merlin what he wants. If anything, Arthur slows his place, making sure to pepper soft kisses along Merlin’s neck as they fuck missionary style.    

Merlin knows Arthur though, they haven‘t been fucking for six months without Merlin picking up on Arthur’s tics and habits. He knows exactly which buttons to press. “Prat,” he utters, kissing Arthur, only this time he makes sure to bite at Arthur’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Arthur pulls away, leaning on his haunches as he wipes away at the blood that dribbles down his lip. “ _You,”_ he snarls, eyes dark and gleaming. He crawls over Merlin, towering over him as he grasps at Merlin’s hand. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.” He retrieves his tie, blood red and ties Merlin’s hand to the thin iron frame of the bed.

“Becoming vanilla, are we?” Merlin says, edging Arthur on.

It takes his breath away when Arthur thrusts into him. The force of it has Merlin’s hips leaving the bed, has him bucking wildly as he’s held down and fucked. He wants more, so he wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist, locking his ankles together and meeting him thrust for thrust.

Arthur’s hands trail along his chest, ghosting over his ribs before stopping at his nipples.

Merlin knows what’s coming, but expectation and reality is vastly different. Arthur plays with his nipples, soft, coaxing touches that get them to stiffen before he starts to pinch at them. His tugging and flicking induces a sweet pain and Merlin writhes, keening when Arthur doesn’t ease up. He yanks at the tie, but the silk doesn’t give. The rush comes to Merlin then, the pleasure, the pain, the feeling of being caged and trapped while this beast of a man ravishes him.

Arthur pummelling his prostate over and over again wrings an orgasm out of him. Merlin comes with a shout, cock spurting white over his belly and even the hollow of his collarbone where it dribbles down his neck.

After that, he allows Arthur to chase his pleasure. His nipples throb, pain pulsing in time with his rapid heart rate. Merlin clenches his muscles, massaging Arthur’s cock, bringing him closer to the brink.

Arthur comes with Merlin’s name on his lips, whispered like some sort of reluctant prayer.

There’s love in those words, hidden under the frustration. It seeps past the foggy haze created by the drugs and Merlin feels it.

“No more after this,” Arthur whispers between hushed kisses as he unknots the tie. “You’re already my favourite and I don’t want you wasting away.”  

For a moment, Merlin thinks Arthur’s talking about the sex, but then his brain catches up. “ _Arthur,_ ” he says warningly, trying to pull away but he isn’t able to because Arthur tightens his grip that had been languidly tracing Merlin’s hipbone, holding him into place. “I don’t need a white knight.”

“I can assure you, _Mer_ lin, that I’m nothing of the sort.” There’s something in Arthur’s gaze, a stubborn resolve that has Merlin worried. He’s familiar with that look, knows it to mean that Arthur will inevitably always get his way, regardless of all else. He has the same look on his face just before he does something morally wrong– usually, it leads to someone’s death of some sort.

It’s a bit terrifying, having such an expression directed at him, but at the moment Merlin’s just too drugged up and sexually sated to care. He shuffles closer to Arthur, forehead resting against Arthur’s sternum. Merlin falls asleep to Arthur’s warm breath brushing the nape of his neck, and Arthur’s thumb tracing patterns along the fingerprint bruises on Merlin’s hip.

\-----

The regular updates being sent to his phone on Merlin’s condition isn’t enough and Arthur has never been more glad to have been able to come home on schedule.

He hates to have left Merlin at such a critical time, but work is work, and it’s not as if Merlin is at home unattended. There are a fleet of nursing students and even a disgraced doctor there to cater to his every need and whim.

Blame it upon many years at boarding school or an absent father if you will, but having a place to go home to has never been a priority for Arthur. It’s not that he doesn’t have a home. In actuality he has numerous properties, even an island or two. It’s just that… he’s never felt homesick, never had that strange longing that people seem to have. Until Merlin of course. It’s Merlin that makes him understand the concept of home being where the heart is. Merlin, his little junkie, his little stray that acts as an anchor, keeping him from straying too far. A ball and chain that isn’t exactly unwelcome.

Arthur realises what an Achilles heel Merlin presents to be, but it’s alright, he can afford the luxury of having a single weakness. He loves very little else after all.

He meets “Doctor” Gaius in the hotel lobby, just as the man was about to make his leave. “How is he?” Arthur asks.

“My boy,” Gaius greets, shaking his head in an exasperated manner. “In all the years that I have known you, you’ve never made it easy for yourself, have you? Would it not have been better to just pick someone not so,” he frowns to himself, cautiously looking for the correct word. “So broken? Surely anyone else would do better. A underwear model perhaps?”

“His condition, Gaius.”

“He’s progressing through his withdrawal quite well. I’ve given him intravenous pain relief for the cramping, as well as something to keep him hydrated. I dare say the worst of it is over.”

"Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

Gaius shakes his head dismissively.  "This is all very textbook, my dear boy. The nursing students know what to do. The most you can do for him now is keep him company. It will be a good distraction from what he’s going through.”

Arthur snorts wryly. “I don’t think he’d be very happy to see me.” Merlin hadn’t exactly consented to being made to quit, but at the same time he hadn’t been too adamantly against it either.

Gaius raises a single eyebrow, which he tends to do when he knows Arthur has done something wrong. It’s not that he disapproves of it, if anything he disapproves of the fact that Arthur realises that what he does is wrong, and doesn’t care. “I guess you will have to see him to find out,” he says, before shuffling off with an efficient goodbye.

Arthur counts down the seconds it takes for the elevator to take him up to the penthouse. He’s still unused to this giddy feeling, this tiny, but vibrant burst of happiness that always comes at the thought of coming home to Merlin.  

He dismisses the two nursing students he had hired the moment the elevator door opens up to the lavish penthouse. They leave a bit too eagerly, not that he minds. They’ll return the moment he calls for them, the money he offers is too good, and they all have students loans that need to be paid off.

Merlin looks so incredibly small, curled up in the middle of the king sized bed. The red bed sheets and duvet practically engulf him.  

Arthur barely shucks off his shoes before he crawls into bed with Merlin, mindful of the IV drip still attached to Merlin’s arm.

Slowly, Merlin’s eyelids flutter open, the blue of his eyes looking so vibrant against his pale complexion. “Arthur,” he says, licking at his chapped lips. He smiles, then frowns. “I hate you so much right now,” he says, but he shuffles closer, huddling into Arthur’s arms.

“That’s alright.” Arthur cards his fingers through Merlin’s hair, brushing it away from his clammy forehead. He pulls Merlin closer, not caring that he’s ruining his very expensive suit. “You won’t hate me forever.”  

“Don’t count on it.”  Merlin scoffs, fingers playing with the lapels of Arthur’s suit. “You’re such a prat. I hardly know what to do with you.”

There are bags under Merlin’s eyes, dark and purpling against his sickly pale skin. Arthur drags a thumb across Merlin’s cheekbone, sharper than they were before. He’s too gaunt, almost birdlike in his fragility, and the occasional shivers that wrack his frame look as if it would cause his bones to shatter. After this debacle is over, Arthur will ply Merlin full of food, put the meat back onto his bones and make sure he’s well again.

They don’t talk for awhile, Arthur just touches Merlin, stroking his back and his hair. “You’re putting,” Merlin swallows thickly. When he blinks, tears coat his eyelashes, running down his face and making his eyes glisten brightly. “Putting a lot of effort into this.” The ‘into me’ part is written across his broken expression.

“There’s just something about you. Maybe I do have a bit of a white knight complex, ” Arthur jokes. The truth is that Arthur is simply just greedy. He wants all of Merlin, refuses to share him or lose him to vices. Arthur sees the inkling of who, and what Merlin can truly be without the shackles of addiction. He sees the potential, and he wants that Merlin, not the one from before, a flickering light dimmed down by drugs. Now that Arthur has Merlin, he’s not letting go.

He was never any good parting with his toys. “Hurry up and get better,” he says with a impatient huff before kissing the crown of Merlin’s head. “So I can take you home. I have a castle, you know?” More than one, and an island or three, but he can surprise Merlin with that later, when he’s better.

“Clotpole.”

 

 


End file.
